Irina Pino’s Diary

The first words out of her mouth were: “I slept with a black man.” That direct phrase left me speechless. After all, it wasn’t like my friend to say such things. I wanted to know more, but I noticed she wasn’t comfortable talking about it.

A friend of mine who left the country recently told me that, after he’d earned a lot of money, he would treat me to silicone breast implants. When he told me of this “great gift”, I burst out laughing. Then, I asked myself: why would I want breast implants? Don’t I have my own breasts?

He doesn’t look like a former sailor. He is too big, he seems to have lost his gracefulness at sea, along with all of the hopes he had in his youth. Jose Manuel is now forty-two. He lives on Campanario (“Bellfry”) street, in Havana’s neighborhood of Centro Habana. Those bells, however, no longer toll for him. The only thing he thinks about is how to leave the city of his birth, how to escape his country, which he calls “hell”.

Two days ago, a friend of mine who’s a writer arrived in Cuba. Fascinated by the descriptions of the architectural beauty, museums and historical sites of Old Havana I had sent him in my emails, he wanted to start his tour of the city in the old part of town.

We’re constantly seeing announcements on Cuban TV and other media preaching about the need to take care of nature, telling us not to damage the environment. A few days ago, I witnessed a very unpleasant incident, near the entrance to my building (where, as I explained in a previous post, there is a parking lot belonging to the Cuban company CIMEX).

At five thirty in the morning, the shrill, loud noise of an obsolete lawn-mower wakes me up. At first, I am irritated, annoyed. It’s Saturday and I should be able to get a bit more sleep. On weekdays, I have to get up early to get my kid ready for school (he’s in junior high).

In the Sierra Maestra building (CIMEX) of Miramar, is a Metropolitan Bank, a Banco International Financiero, an ATM … and a recently opened chain of stores, and a modern cafe.